


Photo Finishes

by Valeria2067



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Humor, Humour, M/M, Nudity, Photgraphs, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-04 22:09:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valeria2067/pseuds/Valeria2067
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John eats drugged biscuits, Sherlock finds a better use for the shower cap, Sherlock and Jim are alive and together, Sherlock and Victor meet in Sherlock's university dorm, Sherlock uses his body when needed to crush Moriarty's web, Sherlock considers the sky during his final moments, and more.  Very, very short ficlets inspired by photos submitted by Tumblr friends. MORE added soon!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Sherlock looked once more at the gathering clouds in the sky.

Dark, looming, ready to break.

In an instant, he was in a Literature Studies class, looking at the phrase  ”pathetic fallacy” written in a prim hand across a whiteboard. 

_Pathetic Fallacy - assigning emotions or other human attributes to non-humans._

Many authors and critics looked down on the practice. He’d laughed at it, too. 

Now, he gazed intently at the sad, angry, hopeless sky. He felt the first drops of rain fall on his cheeks like held-back tears.

_I was wrong to laugh_ , he thought. 

 

 

 

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

Sherlock left the snoring man on the floor and moved over to the stack of carelessly-dropped items in the corner.  

The key to finding his next target in Moriarty’s web was somewhere among those belongings.  It wouldn’t take long to find it - Ah. Yes. A packet of Armenian-made cigarettes, and a note scribbled on stationery from from the Golden Tulip Hotel in Yerevan.That would be his next stop then.

He bent down, looked through his own overnight bag, and retrieved a small but quite effective knife. It was better to do this naked; less chance of blood smearing the only clothing he had to his name.

  
  


 

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

“So. These are your palatial university quarters, are they? Quite…  _efficient_. May I sit?”

“Be my guest, Mr. Trevor.”

“Please. Call me Victor.”

“Victor. And you must call me Sherlock.”

“Happily. And are you, Sherlock, naked under those bed linens?”

“Well, Victor, I believe there is a very  _efficient_  means of finding the answer to your question.”

  
  


 

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

“Bring the axes. I’ll get the guns. We’re going to find those two fuckers. And then I get to kill mine.”

“I still don’t understand. They were both dead. I saw him. And I saw the photos of Mor-…”

“Well, they like tricks, don’t they? And the arrogant bastards thought we wouldn’t track them down, either.”

“They’re together? You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus, Sebastian.”

“Jesus had nothing to do with it.”

  
  


 

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

“John, is that… is that a French Maid fancy dress costume?”

“When I said, ‘Clean the bloody flat, Sherlock!’ I didn’t mean for him to do it dressed like that, I swear.”

“Right. The fishnet stockings work rather well, though, eh?”

“Everything works well on those legs…Oi! Watch it. That’s my…Sherlock… you’re ogling.”

“Sorry. Look, I’ll leave you to it then, shall I?”

“You do that. Oh, quick question. Does Mycroft do this sort of thing? No, you know what, forget I asked that. I don’t want to know.”

  
  


 

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

“Oh, God… Sherlock… it’s so beautiful… this is what it’s like for you?”

“John, please come down from there. You’re in danger of falling…”

“It’s like…Jesus… I never even imagined Sherlock!”

“Listen to me: Those biscuits were not meant for you. They were drugged, John. It was for a case.”

“I can see the top of your head! I see can see it, Sherlock! Haaaah!”

“John. John, please!”

“It finally happened! Sher- oh!  Sherlock, I’m so happy!”

“John!”

“YEEESSSSS! YES! GOD, YES! ……. I’M  _ **TALL**_!”

  
  


 

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

“Sherlock, what the HELL are you doing?”

“I’ve found a use for the hotel’s complimentary shower cap, John.”

“You look ridiculous. You do know that, right?”

“I assure you it looks less ridiculous like this than it does when used as intended.”

“Okay, fine. Take it off.”

“Come over here and make me.”

“You… God, you’re like a five year old sometimes.”

“Waiting……”

 

=====================================

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

No. God damn him, NO. Not now, not this close to the end.

 _Wake up, John! I’m here! I’m ALIVE! Don’t do this_!

Sherlock could feel John’s pulse; it was still fairly strong. Hadn’t been long, then. There was still a chance, if he acted quickly.

But then again, there was no way to tell how many pills had been in the overturned  bottle by John’s elbow.

Quickly but carefully, Sherlock opened John’s mouth, reached down, and prayed for a reflex that might save the life of his friend.

His one friend.

  
  


 

oOoOoOoOoOoO

“Um, Sherlock? Care to tell me what exactly you were trying to do in this photo?”

“I’m not doing anything in it, John.”

“No? Okay, yeah. Don’t tell me. I’m sure I can use my imagination.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Maybe I’ll ask Greg. Because this is prime blackmail material, Sherlock. Can you imagine if he let the yarders have a look?”

“John, I’m not the person in that photograph. Look at the writing on the back.”

“ _Great shot of me! Thanks for holding the camera! —M.C._    Wait, who is M.C.?”

“My cousin Martin. He’s a pilot. Well, I say pilot.”

“Oh?”

“He flies from time to time. But when he was young, he wanted to be an aeroplane."

  
  


 

oOoOoOoOoOoO

“Sherlock, I think you need to apologise to Mycroft.”

“Hmmph. You obviously don’t know me as well as I thought.”

“Oh, you won’t get an argument from me on that. I really had no idea. No idea at all. Well, I guess this explains the whole turning up the collar and looking cool thing, now.”

“WHAT explains it? What are you looking at?”

“This photo Mycroft emailed me of you at som posh do….. You’re about thirteen, I think? Went through a ginger hair-dye phase, did you? Or is it now that you colour it?”

“Delete that at ONCE, John! Delete it or I will immerse your laptop’s hard drive in acid and then set it on fire!”

“Relax, relax, I’m not keeping it. But Mycroft is planning to send it to every computer at Scotland Yard tomorrow morning unless you apologise for the business with the Chinese Embassy.”

“Oh, for God’s sake! Fine. Pass me my phone.”

 

 

oOoOoOoOoOoO

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

“No matter how hard you stare at them, you cannot will her to disappear.”

“I need to speak to him, Mycroft. I need to tell him why I left, and I need to do it when he’s alone.”

“I’m afraid that will be rather difficult, brother.”

“Why? Is this particular girlfriend something special? She looks completely ordinary to me.”

“Sherlock,”

“Oh, I’m being callous am I? Forgive me if I’m more interested in reclaiming the person I hope to spend the rest of my days with.”

“I am sorry you had to find out now, like this.”

“Find out?

“She isn’t his girlfriend, Sherlock. She’s his wife.”

 

 

 

oOoOoOoOoOo

“He looks so much older, Victor. Thinner. Nearly broken.”

“Yes, well, losing you will do that to a man.” Victor attempted a weak smile. “Or so I imagine.” He cleared his throat. “Well. You’ve made up your mind, then?”

“I have.” Sherlock apparently could not bring himself to look into Victor’s eyes. “I’m going back home to him at the end of the week. I only hope he will find a way to forgive me for the pain I’ve caused him.”

Victor let out a barely-audible sigh. “He will; I assure you.”

“May I continue to stay with you until I… meet with him? Or would you prefer I find somewhere else?”

“Sherlock, for God’s sake,” Victor answered hoarsely before regaining his composure. “You don’t have to ask me that. You never have to ask me that. I want to help you in any way I can.” This time, Victor met Sherlock’s gaze. “Even if it means watching you leave again.”

Sherlock’s lips parted for a moment, then closed abruptly, cutting of a response Victor could only try to guess at. Instead, Sherlock merely asked a question. “Did you know he would be here tonight?”

Something cold gnawed at Victor’s stomach, but he smiled nonetheless. “No. I didn’t think this type of … establishment… would attract the man you’ve described to me.  I’m rather surprised he can afford it, too. Or would that be your generous estate we have to thank?”

A smile crept across Sherlock’s lips. “Hardly. He’s working. For Lestrade, I imagine.”

“Applying your methods, in your honour. One might use the phrase ‘In Loving Memory’.  You don’t worry he’ll see you?” Tightness gripped Victor’s chest and throat.

_Not yet. Not just yet, please. Give me these last few days._

“I shouldn’t think so. He’s obviously on the lookout for a man of about his height, one with very dark hair. Those are the only individuals getting his attention tonight.  Still,” Sherlock took one hand out of his jacket pocket and placed it on Victor’s shoulder, close enough to let his thumb brush the skin on Victor’s neck; “We should leave now, just to be sure. Would you be terribly disappointed to make it an early night?” 

“Not at all. That would be fine,” Victor breathed.

Sherlock moved closer, backing Victor up to the wall, but not pressing him against it. He took his friend’s face in his hands, pulled it down slightly, and kissed him. 

A soft, slow, loving kiss.

When Victor opened his eyes again, he saw Sherlock turn slightly away as if to check that John’s attention had drifted elsewhere.

His heart sank. “Ah. Was that… camouflage? Was that for him?”

Sherlock looked back, his own eyes wet with tears, now.

“No. No, my friend; that was for me.”


End file.
